Let's play a little game. Here are the traditional lifetime statistics of two outfielders. Each had some outstanding seasons on the way to compiling these numbers, but the career totals themselves are pretty unimpressive:

	YRS	G	AB	R	H	2B	3B	HR	RBI	SB	AVG	OBP	SLG
A	10	1211	4627	812	1491	236	93	42	592	153	.322	.399	.441
B	12	1269	4623	657	1400	275	38	130	726	80	.303	.368	.463

The interesting thing, of course, is that their traditional career numbers are a very close match. B had more power and RBI while had A had more speed and runs scored, but the differences essentially end there. We can take defense out of the equation here as neither man was considered to be anything other than an average fielder. There is also no reason to look at post-season heroics as neither man performed up to expectations in crunch time.

We do have a few adjustments to make. Player A's career ran from 1917 through 1926 while Player B's began in 1985 and ran through 1996. Those are two distinctly different eras for offense. We need to even these out somehow, but in a relatively simple manner since most average fans don't understand the complex methods used by many sabermetricians.

One tool I like to use to measure the offensive orientation of the era in which a player played is something I call OPS Ratio. Essentially, I take the top OPS seasons during that player's career and figure what the highest possible OPS was for that time frame. For instance, Player A played entirely in the National League, so I would take the NL OPS leader for 1917, 1918, and so on. That gives me Rogers Hornsby's 1917 campaign, Edd Roush's 1918 campaign, and so, all the way up to and including Cy Williams' 1926 season. All numbers, by the way, come from Baseball-Reference.com. If you've never used that site, you're truly missing out.

When combined, these ten seasons produce a "career" with an OPS of 1.041. Likewise, the twelve American League seasons of Player B produce a combined OPS of 1.027. Since these numbers represent the theoretical best OPS any player could have posted in that timeframe, we can determine each player's ratio in comparison to that mark. No, this isn't the most accurate method in the world, but it does give us some sense of how that player compared to the best hitters of their time, something we need to know if we're going to bestow honors upon them.

The result is an OPS Ratio of .807 for Player A (.840/1.041) and .809 for Player B (.831/1.027), meaning that each man produced a career OPS of about 81% of the absolute best we could expect. That's a wash.

To make sure we get a good sabermetric look at these two we can examine each man's Total Player Rating, or TPR. I don't necessarily agree with some of the calculations used to arrive at TPR, but it's fairly widely accepted now as a reasonable measure of player value. In this case, each man posted a career TPR of exactly 10.8. Another wash.

At this point, I think it's safe to say that these two men were essentially the same player. They played in different time periods and in different leagues, but their contributions, both in traditional terms and sabermetric terms, are basically interchangeable.

By now I'm sure you are wondering why I've taken you through this little exercise. I mean, anyone can find two very similar baseball careers and show that the players involved were of nearly identical value to their teams. So why bother to do so in this case? What is so compelling about these two players to bother you with this comparison?

The answers is this – Player A is a member of the National Baseball Hall of Fame. Player B is Mike Greenwell.

Let me say it differently to bring that horror into full focus – There is someone in the Hall of Fame whose skills were comparable to Mike Greenwell's.

Now, I'm sure there are proud members of Red Sox Nation out there who are saying, "Greenie for the Hall! Gator Goes to Cooperstown!" There are probably members of the Baseball Writers Association of America who feel the same way. We'll find out in a couple of months when the ballots come out and Greenwell's name appears on it for the first time.

While I too am a proud member of The Nation, I am under absolutely no illusions about Mike Greenwell's place in Cooperstown. In fact, it's pretty ghastly to type "Greenwell" and "Cooperstown" in any sentence that doesn’t include either of the words "doorman" or "custodian". He certainly doesn't belong in The Hall as a player. Hey, maybe he'll make it as a manager now that he's turned to the coaching side of the game, but I'm not holding my breath.

So if Greenwell is so perfectly comparable to Player A, and Greenwell has absolutely no business in Cooperstown, then why is Player A enshrined? That's an excellent question, one without a reasonable answer.

Player A's real identity is Ross Youngs, right fielder for the New York Giants. While he played for a very good team and had some fine seasons, Youngs was never considered the game's best player, or even the best at his position in his league. He played at the same time as Edd Roush, Kiki Cuyler, Zach Wheat, and Max Carey, all Hall of Famers, as well as other stars such as Gavvy Cravath, George Burns, Cy Williams, and others. Youngs managed to lead the league in runs scored in 1923 and in doubles in 1919, but otherwise he never led the league in a single other offensive category, unless you count strikeouts in 1918. He posted some lofty batting averages, but those were fairly common in that era. He was a good, solid player on a championship team, no more, no less.

However, as some of you probably know, Youngs died in 1927 of Bright's Disease at the tender age of 30. Ordinarily, such tragic circumstances are certain to induce a groundswell of sympathy and wistful "if only" commentary by sportswriters. Much as Kirby Puckett's career-ending eye injury certainly helped grease his way into The Hall, Youngs' premature death would have been a prime motivator in getting him elected as well.

The trouble is that the Hall of Fame didn't exist when Youngs died. There were no soft-hearted voters among the baseball writers pining away about what great numbers Youngs might have posted were it not for the wicked illness that laid him low. No, Youngs had an even bigger ace in the hole.

He was inducted in 1972 when his former teammate, Frankie Frisch, dominated the Veteran's Committee. Frisch helped a long list of his former mates get inducted, an undistinguished group that ranged from the relatively reasonable selection of Dave Bancroft to the atrocious selection of George "Highpockets" Kelly. At no time before or since has The Hall welcomed so many marginal players to its ranks. Youngs stands near the bottom of this mediocre group, no doubt aided by Frisch's personal memories of sadness and loss.

That's a heartwarming story, but unfortunately the ending is unfair to dozens of ballplayers who are more worthy of induction than Youngs was. Why didn't Frisch push for the election of Bill Dahlen? Or Bob Elliott? Or Stan Hack, Cupid Childs, Sherry Magee, Jack Glasscock, Dick Bartell, Indian Bob Johnson, Denny Lyons or any number of other candidates with better cases than Ross Youngs? Simple, Frankie never played with any of those guys.

With the recent changes to the process of selecting players that the writers pass over, perhaps the long, sad history of ridiculous Veteran's Committee selections has finally come to an end. If so, that would be a wonderful step. Unfortunately, I don't believe it would go far enough.

I favor a review of all current members of The Hall, the goal of which should be the removal of all players that should have never been allowed in. The Hall of Fame should be baseball's highest honor. It should not be a shrine for Frankie Frisch's cronies, or those of any other old player that happens to have a loud voice in the meeting room. Allowing these players to remain enshrined is to cheapen all other members who earned their places. It also reduces The Hall's credibility by continuing to hail mediocrity as if it were synonymous with greatness. Ultimately, people will stop coming to see the artifacts and likenesses of the Youngs and Kellys.

After all, would you pay to see a plaque of Mike "Gator" Greenwell?

» Paul White still thinks Gator Greenwell swung a pretty fair stick. You can read more of Paul's work at www.lostinleftfield.com

Also by Paul White
» Babe's MVP Snubs
» The Schalk-Schang Redemption: Two Men Who Prove That The Hall of Fame Veterans Committee Was a Sham
» Being Tony Muser

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